Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. I can't invent; the thing won't come. ‘Civilian peace-keeping forces, you know. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. Anna looked at her, startled. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Yet he stays. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery.
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